


Second Chance First Impressions

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, POV Derek, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: They don't have traditions yet, but there is this: his family, fierce and protective and wary of strangers.Or: Stiles takes Derek to see his extended family for Christmas.





	Second Chance First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this as a pinch hitter for the Sterek Secret Santa 2017. I hope you like it, sweetie!
> 
> While this CAN standalone, it's a companion piece to Traditional Dinners ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/12805098 ) Merry Christmas!!!

They haven’t been together long enough to actually have traditions, and Derek knows it bothers Stiles. That the holiday season is a mess of a succubus getting her claws into Lydia, and rushed shopping and a half decorated loft. 

They curl in Stiles bed and he tells Derek about how Christmas was a month long event with his mother, days spent baking and decorating, weekends with cups of hot chocolate and movie marathons, nights crowded in the cruiser, wrapped up in blankets as they looked at the city lit up for the holiday. 

“We don't do that anymore,” he says, and Derek hears the sad note in his voice, though, and holds Stiles a little tighter. 

“We'll make our own traditions.”

One tradition that he doesn’t plan to discard is the Stilinski Christmas Eve. 

Stiles spends the twenty third with Scott baking, giggling like little boys while Derek wraps what feels like an endless pile of presents. And early on the twenty fourth, Stiles wakes him with a kiss and a cup of coffee. Derek tucks himself behind the wheel of the truck, Scott and Stiles curled like puppies in the backseat and the Sheriff in the front, with a box of donuts. 

Derek lifts an eyebrow and he grins. “It’s tradition.” 

~*~

Stiles stretches, languid and sleepy and unbearably sexy in the driveway of his Babica’s house, and Derek clenches his hands in fists. 

They’ve been dating for over a year, and even got married in a hasty ceremony prompted by alliance and fae sensibilities--not that Derek had any intention of ever letting Stiles back out of the ‘ _ temporary, man, we just gotta appease the Queen _ ’ marriage of convenience--and he still has these moments, when he glances at the younger man, and gets knocked on his ass because this is  _ his. _

For some goddamn baffling reason, Stiles picked him. And maybe that was a mistake, maybe Derek should be arguing and running to give him a chance to find something--anything--better, but he was selfish when it came to Stiles, and he held on with a stubborn refusal to lose the last best thing in his life. 

“Derek!” 

The shrill voice cut through the quiet, and he grinned at Elle as the little girl darted down the porch and threw herself at him. 

Stiles’ large and almost ridiculously overprotective family spills out after Elle, smiling and shouting at the sight of Stiles. 

Derek hangs back, Elle on his hip, as they cluster around his pale, brilliant boy and merely smiles when Stiles turns, searching for him. 

Then Rebecca turns and she hugs him, quick and awkward and startlingly sincere. “Thanks,” she says, “for being here.” 

And that’s when he realizes, the family that is clustered around Stiles, that is tugging him into the warm house, is also pulling Derek along, with shy smiles and quick darting hugs and nudging him forward until he’s next to Stiles, the younger man's weight a familiar press at his side.

He sees John smiling, pleased and smug, as one of the aunts snaps an order and the older cousins start carrying presents and baked goods into the house. 

Babica is sitting in the living room, her long silver hair braided and tucked up like a crown around her head and Derek smiles at her as she murmurs Stiles’ name and draws him down into a fierce hug. 

She does the same to Derek, a hard clenching hug that is as possessive and protective of him as if he were her blood. 

“Thank you for coming back, wolf.” 

He knows Stiles told Babica, that the matriarch of the Stilinski clan knows what he is even if none of the others do and it settles the anxious pacing wolf in his chest, dipping his head and letting the tiny woman touch his neck, a smile on her lips. 

“I’m glad to be here,” he says, honestly. 

She tucks her hand into his elbow and smiles. “Come along.” 

~*~

It’s different this time. 

And it feels genuine, not just a family cowed by a matriarch with too much alpha in her blood. The aunts bring him cocoa and cookies, the cousins include him in their stories and conversation. A few even ask him about himself, something that makes him flush and look helplessly to Stiles, who leans into his side and fills up the conversation. 

It doesn’t take them long to understand that Derek doesn’t like talking, and is calmest when close to Stiles or John. 

He thinks maybe they realized that before, because this family is brilliant and watchful, especially of Stiles. 

They  _ adore _ him. 

He can see it, in the way the cousins clamor for his attention and the aunts send sidelong glances, checking on him as he bustles around the kitchen and teases them. He sees it in the way the uncles are gruff and patient, listening to his stories and showing him small simple things, watching with absurd pride in their eyes as Stiles does something as easy as light a fire.

“Claudia--they loved her. And he is very like her.”

He glances at Babica and she smiles. “After she left us, he would spend summers here. Weekends, sometimes. It was good for him to be with family, and we needed to be close to Claudia’s boy. But it became about him, and not just the woman we lost. They love  _ him _ .”

“He is very easy to love,” Derek says, a faint smile on his face, and Babica shakes her head, a slight smile on her lips. 

“He isn’t. But then, she wasn’t either. And John loves her still.” 

Derek gets it. If he were to lose Stiles--fear clenches in his gut and he makes a low pained noise at the thought, and Babica rubs his wrist, her hand wrinkly and soft and comforting. 

“He isn’t. But he’s worth it.” Derek says. 

~*~

The children demand his attention, and he doesn’t mind, slipping away from the noise of the big family and settling on the floor near a low table, letting them clamber over him and smear frosting on his face and sweater as he coos over their creations. He helps little Gemin with his gingerbread man and nibbles playfully at Alex’s cookie while Natalie leans into his shoulder and helps him poke sprinkles on the sugar cookie he’s been coerced into decorating. 

“Do you and Stiles want to adopt some?” Rebecca asks, and he glances up. 

“Yes,” he says, easily. He’s wanted children for years, wants a pack to fill up a house on the holidays and during the year, to care about each other with a ferocity that excludes outsiders and perceived threats. 

She smiles, and pats his shoulder. “Stiles did well with you.” 

Derek doesn't correct her. Doesn’t tell her that he is the one who did well. 

There’s no real point to it. 

He knows, and that’s all that matters. 

“I hope next year you have a little one to join us,” she says, her eyes warm.

~*~

He’s a little surprised by the presents. They’re generic, things for a house they don’t have yet, and he loves them, flushes and smiles in quiet delight at each gift. 

Babica preens when he goes speechless and wide-eyed over a painting. It’s the view from Beacon Point and the moon is bright and full as it shines. 

It looks so real he can almost feel the wind, almost hear his pack howling. 

~*~ 

“Did you like it?” Stiles asks, his voice shaded with worry, and Derek squeezes his hand. Scott is asleep in the backseat and John is quiet, doing an impressive imitation of sleeping to give them their first privacy of the day. 

Derek thinks about the children sleeping on him and the laughter and presents, of the piles of cookies and cake in the back of the truck, thinks about Rebecca’s quiet acceptance of him.

For the first time in years, it felt like spending the holiday with a pack, with  _ Stiles’ pack  _ and it makes something ache even as it soothes and settles him. 

“Yes,” he says, squeezing Stiles hand. “I loved it.” 


End file.
